


Driving Lesson

by Nehszriah



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kamelion is an evil C3-P0 and no one can convince me otherwise, Prompt Fic, a couple Classic references, a wee bit of angst, can almost be read as no shipping but it's me writing lbrh, how not to drive the TARDIS, no matter what incarnation the Doctor is always a bloke when it comes to manuals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22960012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: The Doctor and Clara attempt a TARDIS driving lesson and things don't precisely go as planned. [from a prompt on tumblr]
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Kudos: 25





	Driving Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> The following was in response to a prompt where Clara is learning to drive the TARDIS and something breaks off, with hijinks ensuing. What I got was not precisely the scenario in the prompt but it is close enough, with some humor, some fluff, a wee bit of drama, banter, some Classic references (oblique and not), and a couple other things jammed in there. On another note, this February has been a weird-ass month for me overall and I'm very glad to end it on a decent note like this you have no idea though I love this ship and adore you all and I'm just thankful that we have stuff like this in times of need, which is admittedly a weird thing to say/admit to but sometimes it needs to be reiterated

“Are you _sure_ you know what everything does?” Clara deadpanned. She watched as the Doctor glared at the TARDIS console, hand covering his mouth and chin as he wracked his brain. He was supposed to be teaching her how to fly the ship, yet as he was going around pointing out what all the wee switches and knobs and dials and fiddlers did, he stopped in his tracks, trying to remember what a very specific button did.

“I know, Clara,” he replied gruffly, “but it hasn’t been pressed for a long time. It could do something different now.”

“So you forgot.”

“I did not.”

“Then what are you doing? Scouting your chin for stubble?”

“What…?” He noticed he was still holding his chin and took his hand away, looking at it before folding his arms across his chest. “I am simply considering the options.”

“Go on, then. What are they?”

“It could be the coffeemaker or the room jettison.”

“…the coffeemaker or the **_what_** …?!”

“Room jettison—I have one in case of emergencies. It’s rather useful, either able to rid the place of stale furniture or guests, create extra thrust in a particularly bad scenario, let the ship shed a couple tons if she gets fussy and self-conscious…”

“You could burn off entire rooms? With people still inside?”

“Theoretically, yes, though if living beings were still inside then there is always chance for issues. It wouldn’t let me get rid of Kamelion that way, but I think that was tech-related pseudo-empathy regarding the state of its disrepair…”

Clara blinked. “You _what_ …?”

“Oh, Kamelion. Robot-android-like being, wandering around the ship. I hope you never have a run-in.”

“Is that why I could have _sworn_ that C3-P0 was wandering around outside my bedroom a couple nights ago?”

“I’m not entirely certain what a See-Three-Pee-Oh is, Clara, but I can safely guess that it has nothing to do with poorly-made, know-it-all robots that might as well of been cobbled together by a child.” He bristled at a memory and shook his head. “We’re getting off-topic. Let’s leave the button for now.”

“I’m not leaving the button! Isn’t there a manual? Couldn’t you just _ask the TARDIS_?!”

“It’s not that simple, Clara,” he insisted. The lights dimmed momentarily, accompanied by an irritated whirring. “Yes, yes, though we’re lucky I can understand you most days.”

“No manual?”

“It’s a useless piece of gobbledygook that is only practical reading _in theory_ …” He frowned as Clara smacked her forehead in frustration. “What…?!”

“Over a thousand years old and you’re not only still an idiot, but you’re also a first-class bloke,” she said. “You’re as bad as my dad.”

“I thought we agreed to not compare me to your father in any regard,” he groused.

“This I’ll make an exception for,” she fired back. “It just so universally bloke-ish that I almost feel like it shouldn’t surprise me. All I want to know is what this button does and you can’t even get out a manual to tell me _that_ …”

As she spoke, Clara pointed towards the button, accidentally hitting a completely different switch in the process. The TARDIS jerked in response, first lurching heavily, launching the Doctor and Clara to the floor. It began to quake afterwards, slowly building in intensity.

“What the _hell_ was that?!” Clara shouted over the ship’s rumbling.

“I don’t know!” the Doctor replied. “You hit _something_ though! It was too quick to see!”

“If we hit it again, will it stop?”

“I don’t know—it depends on what you just hit!”

A siren began bleating as red lights flashed. The Doctor struggled to prop himself up against the console, thoroughly impressed.

“This is new!” he grinned manically. “Isn’t this an interesting reaction?”

“No!” Clara replied. “It actually is making things worse!”

“Nonsense! It’s actually rather fun when I don’t know what’s going on—you know how exciting that is for me.” He began pressing buttons and flipping switches and turning dials, figuring that _something_ would get the ship to calm down. The TARDIS bucked again and knocked him back into the railing. “Easy now! Kill me and you never get fixed!”

Clara’s eyes went wide at the admission. “WHAT?!”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Clara,” he claimed. The Doctor aimed for the console and threw himself towards it, clutching a panel tightly. “Just a bit of banter. You said you wanted me to banter more.”

“That’s not bantering! That is only making things worse! THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING WORSE!”

Ignoring how flustered his companion was becoming, the Doctor continued to test bits of the console until the TARDIS came to a sudden standstill, one final large tremor tossing the occupants back to the floor. They stood and glanced around: all the books were flung from their shelves, the furniture was in disarray, and the entire console room was a complete mess.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no…” Clara muttered under her breath. She rushed up the stairs and began to pick up books, attempting to sort them back onto their previously-appointed shelves. Going into a panic, she did her best to replace everything quickly as possible, ignoring the Doctor as he began to wander about the console.

“Good news, Clara! I know what that button does now,” he announced, going over what he had just fiddled with. “Less-good of news is I now remember which thing it was that jettisons a room and it was definitely not the button.” He turned to look at Clara and saw that she was no longer on the same level as him, instead attempting to clean up the mess above. Slowly taking each step along the stairs, he quietly came up behind Clara shelving books with tears in her eyes. He touched her shoulders, which only made her jump in fright.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped tearfully. She crouched down, sitting on her calves, and curled up as she attempted to calm herself down. He sat down crosslegged on the mess of books and papers next to her, waiting patiently. Trying to not make eye contact, she glanced at him, concentrating on the skull design on his t-shirt.

“Nothing’s damaged,” he stated. “Everything’s fine.”

“You just said I jettisoned part of the TARDIS.”

“Empty rooms I haven’t a use for, nothing more.” He waited until she made the decision to sit in his lap, opening his arms so that she could sit close. Pressing a kiss to her hair, he lingered there, taking in the scent of her. “There have been worse things done to the TARDIS… by me, in fact.”

“You’re a liar.”

“It’s true—you haven’t seen the previous times I’ve redecorated,” he claimed. “Clara—I’m not a good man… at least when it comes to interior design.”

“You idiot,” she half-laughed. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his hearts, both still beating rapidly from their scare. At least he definitely knew how to make her feel better after a scare. “If you’re no good at interior design, I guess that means you’re following my orders when it comes to how we’re going to tidy up.”

The Doctor froze, not entirely sure about what to say. “Uhhh…”

“None of that now; come on.” She stood and held out her hand, offering a boost up. He took it and they started cleaning up the mess from the jettison. “I think it’s only fair after giving me a fright like that.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then wisely closed it, instead opting to lean in and lightly kiss the back of her jaw. She shuddered happily and he knew he was forgiven, yet kept picking up and reshelving books anyhow. It didn’t hurt to build up some extra safety points, after all.


End file.
